


Challenged

by JhanaMay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Historical References, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JhanaMay/pseuds/JhanaMay
Summary: "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists, the ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years."Before he was sent to make sure Project Insight left the ground, the Winter Soldier was used by Hydra to ensure that any threat to their power was eliminated. He was a ghost, instrumental in changing the course of history over and over. When he's sent to ensure that the Challenger Space mission is compromised, leaving behind a witness means that Hydra will need to bring in other more delicate tools to wipe the slate clean.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a challenge in the [Fanfiction Writers Critique Group](https://www.facebook.com/groups/1735180153380643/) on Facebook. 
> 
> Thanks to destimushi and Lucie for making sure all my commas and dates lined up.

**_January 31, 1986_ **

A single drop of water condenses on the side of the glass on the table. Billy tracks it as it creeps down the surface, trying to ignore the matching bead of sweat making its way between his shoulder blades. It’s cold outside; not the bitter cold of winters in Michigan, but chilly enough that sweating shouldn’t be a factor. Inside the tiny interrogation room, though, the air is stifling.

When they picked him up at his apartment, they said they just wanted him to give a statement, but he’s seen enough episodes of _Hill Street Blues_ to know what an interrogation room looks like. It’s not helping his overactive imagination any. The fact that these nameless men with their unremarkable suits know that he has something to tell them is worrying enough. He hasn’t breathed a word of what he saw to anyone in the past five days, yet they know.

The door opens, and a middle-aged man walks in. His blond hair is a little shaggier than Billy would expect for a government man, and he seems to be attempting a friendly smile. Either Billy is just that freaked out, or this guy isn’t a great actor, because there’s really nothing friendly about his cold blue eyes.

“William,” the man says, motioning to the chair at the table, “sorry to keep you waiting. We just had a few things to clear up.”

Billy slides gingerly into the seat, clenching his fists to hide the trembling. “It’s Billy,” he says, wincing at the squeak in his voice. He clears his throat. “Nobody’s called me William since Mrs. Adams in the third grade.”

The man smiles a little wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges, but there’s still something chilly about him. “You can call me Alex,” he replies easily, setting a few files on the table and settling himself into the opposite chair. He folds his hands on top of the files, his gold cufflinks flashing in the fluorescent lights.

“Okay, uh, Alex,” Billy stutters, “I think there’s been some kind of mix-up, a mistake.”

One eyebrow goes up, and Alex leans back with a soft hum. “I don’t think there’s been any kind of mix-up, Billy.” He flicks open the top file, and there’s a picture clipped to the corner. Billy recognizes it from the office Christmas party last year. “David Jonathan Nemechak, born March 14th, 1960. He works with you at Patrick Air Force Base, correct?”

Billy’s mouth is so dry that he’s not sure he could even work up enough saliva to spit, so he grabs the glass and downs a few gulps, not caring about the way his hand shakes. The glass clatters when he puts it back down on the table too hard, but Alex doesn’t react. “Uh, yeah, Davey and I worked together for four years.”

It isn’t until Alex closes the file and leans forward again that he realizes what he said, but it’s too late to take it back. “Worked?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Billy sucks in a breath through his nose. When he opens them, Alex is still impassively studying his face. “Uh, what?”

“Worked. Past tense. You said he worked with you for the last four years. Not anymore?”

_Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck._ Billy clenches his jaw shut and tries to ignore the rabbiting of his heart in his throat. “Uh, works, I mean. We work together.”

Alex cocks his head to the side and studies Billy’s face. “Billy,” he says softly after nearly a minute, “the nation is mourning the deaths of the crew of the Challenger space shuttle. They’re going to be picking pieces of the wreckage out of the Atlantic for weeks. It’s a tragedy that has caught the attention of the entire world, meaning that no one else has stopped to notice that a lower level flight engineer disappeared two days before the launch.”

A sob catches in Billy’s throat. He’s so totally fucked.

“You can tell me what you saw, Billy. You did see something, didn’t you? You know what happened to David Nemechak.” When Billy doesn’t answer, just shakes his head weakly, Alex leans forward to put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly until Billy looks up. “It’s okay, son. You’re not in any trouble. This is your chance to do the right thing. Tell me what you saw.”

He doesn’t trust this guy at all, with his fancy cufflinks, his surfer hair, and his shiny leather shoes, but the terror that has been building in Billy for the last five days breaks through his misgivings. With a wet sob, he nods. “I saw,” he admits with a wheezing breath.

Alex nods, his features softening into something that is probably meant to be reassuring, but that just reminds Billy of the way his older brother looks just before he punches Billy in the head for no reason. “Nemechak knew something, didn’t he? About the Challenger? He knew it was going to explode.”

It’s Billy’s turn to nod, and it’s like that motion puts the last crack in the dam. “There’ve been issues with the o-ring joints in the SRBs for years, but the erosion was manageable. Davey ran some numbers and between the temps they were expecting that morning and the trouble we’d had with the o-rings before, it wasn’t just a possibility. There was absolutely no way the rings were gonna hold.”

“He didn’t tell anyone?”

“He didn’t get a chance to. The morning the numbers came back, he came in talking about requesting a meeting with launch control to go over the final pre-launch specs. With only two days to go, it would have been a clusterfuck to postpone the launch, but it would have been better than blowing everyone on the shuttle to bits.” Billy swallows the bile that creeps up his throat.

“So why didn’t he get a chance to tell anyone?”

Billy clenches his eyes closed and forces himself to slow his breathing. If it gets any faster, he’ll be hyperventilating. When he opens his eyes, he looks right into Alex’s piercing blue ones and says, “You’re not going to believe me.”

“Try me.”

Putting off the inevitable, Billy grabs the glass again and drains it before setting it back down. He braces both arms on the table, leans forward and says, “Because he was killed that morning by some kind of cyborg. A guy with long, crazy hair, wearing a weird mask, walked right into the staff lounge where he was having his morning coffee, wrapped a wire around his neck, and strangled him.”

He wants Alex to look taken aback, to think his story is crazy, but the other man just nods. “What makes you think he was a cyborg?”

Billy leans back with a huff. “I’ve seen _Terminator_ , dude. He had a fucking metal arm. All this black leather and guns all over him and his arm was bright, shiny metal with a red star on the shoulder. It kind of whirred when he moved, like it ran on hydraulics or something.”

“Why didn’t this metal man, this cyborg, kill you too?” Alex asks with a frown.

Billy’s shrug is jerky. “He didn’t see me. I was outside the lounge and saw him through the window. He strangled Davey and tossed him over his shoulder. When he came toward the doors, I ran. Hid in the fucking janitor’s closet. Not my finest moment, but it wasn’t like I could fight a terminator.”

Alex steeples his fingers in front of him, tapping his pointer fingers together. “And you didn’t report this?”

“Who would have believed me?” Billy shoots back. “Some kind of Russian cyborg assassin killed my best friend? They’d have locked me up in the looney bin. I told my supervisor I was sick, drove home, and got drunk for three days. By the time I surfaced, the Challenger had already gone down.” The nausea Billy has been fighting for the last five days threatens to overtake him.

“You could have reported him missing.”

“I’m pretty much all he’s got. His parents died when he was at MIT and he lost touch with his sister. I was gonna lay low for a week or two and then report it, just so there was a paper trail or something, but you guys showed up this morning.” Billy stops and narrows his eyes. “How the hell did you even know he was missing?”

A muscle in Alex’s jaw twitches. “During the investigation at Cape Canaveral, your supervisor mentioned that neither of you had been seen in a few days. They passed it on to us to look into. When we went to Nemechak’s apartment, he wasn’t there, but we lucked out at yours.”

Billy chews the inside of his cheek. “So you didn’t actually know he was missing? Or that I knew anything?”

“Not until I saw your reaction to his photo,” Alex admits.

“So, what now?”

Alex tilts his head to the side. “Now we’ll file your report and open an investigation into your friend’s murder.”

Relief slams through Billy’s chest like a freight train. “Wait. You believe me?”

“Any reason why I shouldn’t?”

Billy slumps back in his chair. “No, just, it’s crazy, right? Russian cyborg assassins? _Terminator_ is just a movie, man. That shit doesn’t exist in real life.”

When Alex stands, Billy does too. “You’d be surprised what shit exists in real life, Billy.” He extends his hand and Billy shakes it, ignoring the niggling feeling that something about this was way too easy. He latches onto the relief and holds tight.

“We’ll find whoever killed your friend, son,” Alex continues. “You just need to trust me. It’s better if you don’t mention this to anyone else. The last thing we want is for you to become a target.”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing, sir. I don’t even know who I’d tell that would believe me. Ever since I got picked up for dope possession in college, my parents aren’t too keen to believe anything I say.”

Alex guides him to the door, opening it to reveal the men who brought him from his apartment waiting in the hallway. “Take care of yourself. We’ll be in touch if we need any other information.”

The last thing Billy does before the men lead him away is look down at the credentials pinned to Alex’s lapel. **S.H.E.I.L.D. Pierce, Alexander. Agent. Level 8.**

 

 

** Obituaries **

Published in the Brevard Times

BEEKS, WILLIAM J.

On February 2nd, 1986, age 26, of Rockledge, Florida. Beloved son of Joseph and Jane (Darrow) Beeks. Brother of James and Susan Beeks, and uncle of Jennifer Beeks. Employed at Patrick Air Force Base. Friends received on Monday from 2-4 and 7-9 at the BECKMAN-WILLIAMSON FUNERAL HOME, 5400 Village Drive, Melbourne FL, where a funeral service will be held on Tuesday 11 a.m.


End file.
